


age is just a number (not when you're a minor)

by orphan_account



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 21:18:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3333206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Mark wanted to do when he returned to his alma mater was to teach Math. He does not expect the delinquent he meets even before class starts, nor does he expect to fall in love with said minor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	age is just a number (not when you're a minor)

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that there are sexual situations with a minor - 17 years of age - in this fic. If you're uncomfortable with this, please do not read. Dedicated to [gotchick](http://www.gotchick.livejournal.com) on livejournal.

 

 

"Are you okay?"

 

There is a teenager on the ground, mumbling curses under his breath as he picks at the scrape on his elbow. Mark holds his hand out, bending down with his other hand on his knee for balance so he wouldn't fall. His eyes are filled with concern for the boy on the ground.Said boy levels him with a glare, piercing enough that it makes Mark want to withdraw his hand and take a step back. He doesn't have to - his offer of help is slapped out of the way by the boy, who rolls his eyes at him and flips the upended skateboard by his legs with a strong kick. The annoyed part of Mark wants to show how he could do that too, and that this boy wasn't any better than him just because he knew a few tricks that Mark could perform better."No one asked for your help," The boy snaps, adjusting the snapback on his head and kicking off, skating away towards the direction of the school.Mark hopes that whoever that boy is, he doesn't have him in his class.

 

* * *

 

  
It's only his first day of teaching, and Mark already begins to wonder if he should just quit this job and find another one instead. He isn't normally a pessimist, but he walked into the office to see looks of pity and sighs coming from his colleagues. Baffled, he had shrugged it off, receiving his class assignment and walking off towards the classroom he had been assigned to as the homeroom teacher.

 

The moment he slid open the door, Mark understood.There is a moment of silence, and everything stops. The students, rowdy and laughing, all turn to him. Their eyes scrutinize him, give him a once-over, then again, and again. The boys sneer, the girls soften. Mark knows that he is attractive. It isn't something that he likes to talk about, particularly, but he knows that he's attractive, since many have told him so. He doesn't believe himself to be, but if the girls' reactions are anything to go by, it's working its charm on them.The males of the class, however, roll their eyes at him. The ones who are more polite - the ones who are only in the class because of their dismal results and not their behaviour, sit silently in their seats and point their eyes to their desk, ready for class to begin. The troublemakers - and Mark can tell that they are; It's not hard. - continue to sneer at him, lips pulling up at the sides in smirks and grins.A ball is flung at his head with frightening speed and accuracy, but Mark is young. He's 25, and in his prime. Couple that with the sports that he'd been taking part in since he was in middle school - volleyball, basketball, surfing and snowboarding - his reflexes were faster than almost anyone else's he'd met, honed through strenuous training. His hand flies up, and he realizes that if he had been just a second slower, the ball would have slammed into his face. The amount of strength put into the ball was not small; His palm was hurting.There was a low murmur of approval, and the group that had thrown the ball stared at him, as though assessing him. Whatever they were trying to get at, Mark did know, nor did he care at this point of time. With confidence that he did not possess, Mark walked up to the teacher's table at the other end of the classroom, putting his items down and turning to the class. He didn't bother writing his name on the board, knowing that half of them wouldn't care, anyway.

 

Mark was not so old to not know that if you wanted these types of kids to respect you, you needed to give them a reason to do so. Ball still in hand, he tossed it up, bringing his hand up and down on the ball with all the force of a spike that he used to train for, aiming it directly at the desk of the boy that had thrown it at him. The ball rebounded off with a loud sound, flying to the end of the classroom. There was a moment of awed silence that Mark took advantage of.

 

"My name is Mark Tuan," He starts, training his eyes on all the students. If there was something that Mark had, it was the ability to see the best in people. The glint in his eyes was sharp, and while it was him trying to assess each and every student the way that they had assessed him, it was also a way of pretending that he was the one in charge. He knew very well that with students like these, there was little to no way of controlling them. Better to be firm and let them warm up to you than to put them down hard and have them hate you. "Mr. Tuan will be fine."A voice, a very familiar voice, drawled from the back of the class. "Mark, huh?"Mark turned to the owner of the voice, and was both surprised - because he hadn't expected for the boy to be in his class - and not - because that voice had already registered itself inside his head from the rude refusal of his help this morning. He raised an eyebrow at the boy, then glanced down at the list he had with him, complete with profile photographs, courtesy of the school's administration team."Jackson Wang, I take it?" Mark asks, voice as polite as it had ever been. There was a sharp edge to it that had the class 'ooh'-ing and laughing, as though taking their teacher's words as a start of a war. Jackson said nothing, merely scoffed and rolled his eyes at Mark. "Mr. Tuan will be enough. Your wound, on the other hand, will probably need more than a simple band-aid to heal properly."Jackson bristled visibly, but wisely said nothing, his eyes flashing with something that was too brief for Mark to see. Mark turned back to his notes for a moment, but never letting the students have his back, always keeping an eye on them, lest they do anything else. He took it as a battle he had won against the younger, then reprimanded himself internally. Jackson was but a teenager, one that had a penance for causing trouble. If Mark got pulled along with his game, then Mark would be on the losing side."I'm your homeroom teacher," Mark continued, as though he had never been interrupted in the first place. It was strange - he was never usually this eloquent nor good with his words. There was a reason that he was teaching Math rather than English, after all. "As well as your Mathematics teacher. There are a few administration details that I would like to clear up with you, then I'm going to take the time to try to remember all of your names. Any funny business," And here he paused, making eye contact with most - if not all - the students. "Any at all, and your names will be handed over to the disciplinary committee  _immediately_."There was a general muttering across the classroom. He picked up the words 'backbone' and 'different', and concluded that most new teachers who were pitiful enough - himself included - to be given this class as their first normally didn't last long. It probably also explained why he had an immediate spot as a teacher despite having zero experience in teaching, freshly graduated with a degree in Math and nothing in teaching. Mark was determined to stay."Of course, you can play by your own rules, as I'm inclined to think that most of you here do. However, I cannot assure you that I will be very civil when it comes to disobeying my instructions," Mark concluded, smiling. There was an edge to it, not the angelic smile that had the ability to make most of the female population in university swoon, but a sharp one, as though daring them to go against his words.He straightened up, grinning this time, and it was so full of childish mirth and glee that half the class were beginning to shoot him wary looks. "Now," He started again, clasping his hands together. "Shall we begin?"

 

* * *

 

  
In all, Mark thought that his first lesson had gone pretty well, seeing as how he had started with almost the entire class wanting to kick him out of the school. There were the girls that he'd managed to charm with just a smile and a little crinkling of his eyes, but those were the ones who were more easily dealt with. The guys, however, were not as susceptible to succumbing to his charms.

 

Jackson Wang, in particular, was going to take a lot of work.Mark had no idea what the boy had against him, considering the only time he'd met the boy was when he had fallen down on the ground after his skateboard had run over a stray pebble. But it was evident that Jackson disliked him, to the point that he constantly snorted in Mark's class and paid no attention whatsoever.But there was something about him, something about the flash of  _something_  in his eyes when Mark had told him to take better care of his wound that intrigued Mark. Considering Mark was one of the most passive people you'd ever meet, for him to take interest in someone just because of a flash of emotion was strange.Mark didn't understand what it was, but he couldn't deny that it was there.A quick chat with the economics and literature teachers - Im Jaebum and Park Jinyoung respectively - had Mark understanding that Jackson Wang made it his goal to chase out every single math teacher that they'd ever had. Because these teachers were more often than not their homeroom teachers, class 1G had had a total of 4 homeroom teachers since the start of the year."No one really knows what's happened to him," Jaebum says over lunch when Mark had asked. Jaebum and Jinyoung had been in the school for about a year, give or take, and had come in together. They seemed to be doing everything together, and acted like a married couple more than anyone Mark'd ever seen, even his own parents. They had also apparently taken it upon themselves to adopt - take under their wing - Mark. "He used to be a really good kid, we heard. He fenced - still does - and won competitions nation wide. Then something happened after he graduated middle school, and he got progressively worse when he entered Arcadia."Jinyoung shrugs and turns his attention to his food. "We've all tried to persuade him to tell us, or to coax him out of his shell, but it's all be fruitless. He's built up walls for himself so tall that no one has managed to climb in."Mark bit his lip, feeling slightly nauseous. That someone so young would have to do such a thing, that Jackson, a mere 16 year old would have built up walls so high and so thick that no one had ever managed to climb in to see the real Jackson.Granted, Mark had only met the boy this morning, but he couldn't help but feel his heart reach out to the boy. Whatever had happened to him in the time after his middle school graduation to before his entrance into high school, it probably wasn't pretty."He has multiple piercings now," Jaebum continues, chewing thoughtfully. "He smokes, and really, no matter what you say, he does it anyway. His parents have long given up on him as a lost cause. He still fences, but he hasn't won anything for a long time; Not since smoking took away all his stamina.""Why?" Mark stuns them - and himself - with his question. "Why would you give up on your own child?"Jinyoung looks up at him and swallows before answering, "He's not given them a reason not to, Mark. Any attempt they've tried to get him back into fencing has failed. Any attempt to get him to concentrate more on his work ended up as a hopeless case. Jaebum and I have tried, too, but he doesn't take our classes so it's harder. Plus, he doesn't seem to want to change."At this, Mark keeps silent. He doesn't say what he's thinking, keeps it to himself. Jackson Wang, he thinks, is an enigma that he is willing to take the time to try to solve. What Jinyoung had said, about what his parents had done, about getting the boy to concentrate on his work instead of wasting time away, it all had something to do with achievements. There was nothing about loving the boy, there was nothing about worrying about him. It was as though all Jackson was seen as by his parents was that he was a fencer, was a student. That he wasn't human.Mark had been brought up in a loving family, where his parents constantly asked how he felt, about his day, if he had eaten. It had been suffocating when he was a rebellious teenager - tame, compared to Jackson, but still, teenagers were teenagers - but he'd grown up to understand that there was a reason his parents cared so much. The way Jinyoung had put it made it seem as though Jackson's family did not know how to show him their love and concern.No parent would willingly give up on their child, after all. Not their own flesh and blood."Are you going to try to change him, Mark?" Jaebum asks, placing his cutlery down. "He really hates Math teachers. It's going to be hard. Almost impossible, if the fact that he slapped your hand away this morning when he didn't even know who you were is anything to go by."Mark keeps quiet, and Jaebum sighs.

 

* * *

 

  
"Jackson," Mark calls just as he dismisses the class, getting the attention of the boy just before he stalked out the door, bag slung over his shoulder. Jackson was always the first one out of class, given that he didn't bother to take any of his materials out, no matter how hard Mark tried to make him. "Please stay behind."

 

He could tell that he was both embarrassing and annoying the teenager, but Mark would not be Mark if he was as stubborn as he was. He gestured to the first desk, to which Jackson rolls his eyes and slams his bang onto the table, slumping into the chair with the most irritated expression Mark had ever seen in his life. He was tempted to laugh, but knew that it'd be counterproductive if he did.Mark closes the door to the classroom and sits himself on his table, looking for all the world like a 16 year old in Jackson's class, as though the conversation that they were having was between two friends who were going to start bitching about their teachers rather than a teacher speaking to his student. Jackson raises an eyebrow at the move, eyes glinting, as though assessing Mark."Your Math grades are abysmal," Mark starts, and he sees Jackson's face change immediately, as though the other had expected something else. "I won't hold you back after school for this, since I know you have fencing practice. However," He quickly adds when he sees Jackson about to stand up to leave. "You'll have extra classes with me on weekends."At this, Jackson flares up, pushing the chair so far back in his anger that it topples over. "You have no right-""I've discussed it with your parents," Mark interrupts at this point. There's no point in letting Jackson continue to rage at him. "Your father, in particular, has given me permission. Saturdays, from 4 to 8, you'll have lessons with me. They'll continue indefinitely until your grades improve, so I suggest you put in effort."Jackson glares at him like he'd personally offended him - and he had - then grabs his bag and storms out. Mark sighs after him, rubbing his temple where he could feel a migraine coming on.

 

* * *

 

  
It's no secret from then on that Jackson  _loathes_  him.

 

He pays attention in class now, at least, because he doesn't want to have to stay in Mark's weekend classes any longer than he absolutely has to, so he needs to pass math. The dirty looks that he shoots Mark when he knows he's looking at him say enough. Mark whines about it like a child to Jaebum and Jinyoung sometimes in the staff lounge about how it's not his fault and that he just wants to help Jackson. Jaebum laughs at him and ruffles his hair; Jinyoung just grins around his mouthful of coffee with the most amused glint in his eyes. They both commend him on his tenacity, but otherwise watch on, since Jackson takes neither of their classes.That weekend, Mark cleans up his apartment - or the dining and living rooms, at least - to make it look at least somewhat presentable to the boy. Given Jackson's personality, Mark could probably guess that the state of the teenager's room was probably worse than his, but he didn't want to judge a book by its cover.He opens the door when he hears knocking, smiling at Jackson and his father. His student's glaring up at him like he always has, and Jackson's father's hand on his shoulder is tight, almost painful. Mark bows, and after assuring that Jackson wouldn't be a bother, his father goes, leaving Mark and Jackson alone.Mark gestures for Jackson to enter, telling him to put his stuff down at the table, where he already has his books and stationery out. He closes the door behind him and locks it, turning to see Jackson settling himself down. The boy is sweaty, having evidently just come from fencing practice, and a quick glance at his bottle tells Mark that it's empty.He goes to the kitchen to pour both of them a glass of water, making sure that Jackson's is a tall, cold glass. "You look thirsty," He comments when he returns, and Jackson looks up, eyes zoning in on the glass. His gaze flickers from it to Mark's face, looking a little slack-jawed as he accepts the glass. "Drink as much as you want; I'll refill it for you.""Thank you," Jackson murmurs, eyes flickering down. He gulps down most of the water, sheepishly holding onto the glass when he realizes he'd finished most of it. Mark laughs, a lilting noise that has Jackson's head shooting up to stare at him again. He'd never heard Mark laugh, after all, being his student at never having had a reason to.He refills the glass and places it down on the table again, along with a small plate of snacks that he had deemed relatively healthy for an athlete. "Help yourself," Mark says. "It's not much, I concur, but since you're going to be here till 8, you should have something first."Jackson stares at him for a few moments as Mark opens up his notes, then slowly takes a biscuit and bites into it, his eyes never leaving Mark's figure. He breaks out of his trance when Mark turns to him and asks what he isn't sure of from the past few days of class, turning down to look at his own scribbled notes. 

 

"Integration, I guess," Jackson mumbles out. Mark had started the topic the moment he came into the school, starting from where the previous teacher had left off. It wasn't as easy as differentiation, which came more naturally. With integration, you really had to think about it. 

 

Nodding, Mark took out his pencil and began.

 

* * *

  
"Hungry?" Mark asks, roughly 3 and a half hours later. They'd been at it for so long that even he was getting tired. Jackson was finishing up a question, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and didn't reply. Mark didn't repeat his question, merely smiling softly. Jackson was capable of doing the questions, and he was excellent in math if he tried. Thus far, Mark had not only taught him what was in the syllabus, but also sneaked in some higher level questions, and Jackson had been able to do them all.

 

He stood up, slowly, so as not to break his student's concentration, and went into the kitchen to prepare a simple meal of carbonara spaghetti. He was halfway through the sauce when he felt the heavy weight of a gaze on his back, and turned to see Jackson standing at the entrance to the kitchen, piercing eyes on his figure, face unreadable. 

 

"I'm almost done," Mark says, turning back to drain the pasta. "We're done for today, too, so we have time to eat before your dad comes to pick you up."

 

Jackson still doesn't say anything, but his expression changes slightly. He swallows, hands balling into fists by his side, then walks hesitantly into the kitchen. "I- I can help to set the table..." His voice trails off, as though not used to asking for permission. Mark thinks he probably doesn't, the way the end of his sentence lilts up into something more like a question than an offer. Mark smiles and shows him where the cutlery is, mixing the pasta with the sauce.

 

He comes out with two plates of pasta to a set table, Jackson having packed all his stuff and moved Mark's to a side, stacking them up neatly. It makes Mark want to raise an eyebrow, but he doesn't, setting the food down. He tells Jackson to start eating first, but the boy shakes his head and waits for Mark to begin before eating.

 

The silence is tense, but it's the most comfortable that they've been since their first meeting a week ago. Jackson eats quickly, but Mark does not know if it's because of the taste or the boy's hunger. He chalks it up to the hunger and finishes his food, aware of the way Jackson's eyes flit to him once in a while, quickly looking away when he catches the student watching him.

 

The doorbell rings just as he starts to clear the plates up. Jackson shoots up so quickly the chair behind him screeches, and he races to the door, things in hand. Mark sets the plates down and walks to the door to open it, shooting Mr. Wang a smile. 

 

"How was he, Mr. Tuan? I hope he did not give you any trouble?"

 

Mark shakes his head, one hand coming up to touch Jackson gently on the show. He feels the boy tense up, but it's not shaken away, probably because his father is right there. "He was wonderful, Mr. Wang. He's shown a lot of improvement with just one lesson. As long as he doesn't start to slack off again, he'll do great."

 

Mr. Wang shoots both Mark and his son an incredulous look that they both do not miss. It makes Jackson stiffen even more, his expression starting to change from neutral into a scowl, but Mark laughs, lightening the atmosphere. "He really was wonderful, Mr. Wang. There's no need to worry about him."

 

Still somewhat doubtful, Mr. Wang replaces Mark's hand on his son's shoulder, thanking him even as he led Jackson away. His student, however, stops abruptly and bows to him with a soft 'Thank you' that has Mark breathless for a moment. Then he's whisked away by his parent and Mark is left standing there, wondering what just happened.

 

He moves back into his apartment, locking the door behind him and clearing the plates. Mechanically, he goes through the movements of washing and drying the utensils, pots and pans he used, thinking about Jackson and the way he had bowed, the way he had said thank you, and the way there had been a small, shy smile playing on his lips.

 

* * *

" _So_ ," Jinyoung sits down on his desk the next Monday. "How was your weekend class with Mr. Wild and Sexy?"

 

Mark shoots him a  _look_  that has Jinyoung giggling to himself enough that he almost falls off of Mark's desk, which has Mark smirking to himself. "Mr. Wild and Sexy?"

 

"That's what he calls himself," Jinyoung informs, voice grave as though he's conveying the message that America has been invaded. "According to majority of the student population, that is. It's a title that was given to him by the first girl he charmed, and it's stuck ever since."

 

It's so  _Jackson_  that it makes Mark want to scoff and roll his eyes, but he refrains. The Jackson that he had seen in his apartment was vastly different from the Jackson that he saw in his class, and he didn't know which one he should trust, which one he should believe was the true Jackson. He kept quiet, instead.

 

"It was okay," Mark says, shrugging. If you discounted the fact that Mark had been stunned by the expression Jackson had gave him at the very end, it had been, in all honesty, okay. There was nothing special about his lesson, nothing different from his usual tutoring sessions that he gave to other students after class. "It was like any other lesson."

 

Jinyoung pouts as though he had expected something else, like to hear that Jackson had ruined his apartment, or something equally disturbing, but Mark has learned that Jinyoung is a sadist, and sends Jaebum a pleading glance. The other sighs and comes over to physically drag Jinyoung back to his desk, the whining literature teacher going along with him with the most petulant expression Mark has ever seen on an adult's face.

 

For the entire day, Mark thinks of the way Jackson had smiled. Even in class, when he's teaching, Jackson's smile floats into his consciousness and refuses to leave, making Mark more confused than he ever had in his life.

 

* * *

Their one to one lessons continue, and Jackson starts to open up more to him. Mark relishes in the fact that he has managed to get Jackson to at least speak to him like a normal person, and not a teacher that he had hated merely because he disliked the subject that he taught. Jackson starts to ask questions when he had remained silent in the past, and carries himself a different way from the time he first came into Mark's apartment.

 

Now, he starts to prepare meals with Mark, standing side by side in the kitchen while they both work on their dinner. He offers to pay for some of the groceries, asking almost hesitantly, but Mark waves him off. He's the teacher here, he couldn't make his student pay for a meal that didn't really cost much more, anyway. 

 

"Mr. Tuan," Jackson starts, half a year after their lessons have continued. His math grades have improved exponentially, but for some reason, when Mark offers him to stop the lessons, Jackson refuses, saying that he still needs more help. Mark doesn't understand - Jackson can do every single question Mark can find to throw at him - but he takes it in stride. He doesn't mind Jackson's presence, after all. Having a person to speak to during the weekends when he was used to silence was comforting. "Thank you."

 

Mark turns to Jackson, placing the plates into the sink and leaving them to soak, as he takes in Jackson's countenance. The boy is slouched slightly, hands interlocked and fidgeting. It's evident from his body language that Jackson is nervous, but what for, Mark doesn't know. He sits down next to Jackson on the couch, where he had asked the boy to go sit while he cleaned up. "What for?"

 

Jackson doesn't speak for some time, and Mark does not make a sound. It's pretty clear to Mark that this is important to his student, that what he's going to say is something that Jackson has been keeping to himself for a long time. "For caring about me."

 

This makes Mark turn to look fully at his student, who's biting his lower lip and looks distraught. Mark's heart melts and he places a hand on Jackson's arm, making Jackson look at him. "You're my student, Jackson," Mark says, smiling. "Of course I care about you."

 

"It's not-" Jackson stops, swallowing. "It's not a given that you should. I was horrible to you, the first time I met you, but you didn't even hold it against me. And then you offered to give me extra classes when I probably didn't even deserve them. You make me meals, and ask me if I'm okay. You can tell when I need something when no one else can, and- And you-"

 

There are tears falling at this time, and Mark shushes the other, pulling him into a hug. They stay there for some time, Jackson sobbing into his chest and arms wrapped tightly around him, as though afraid that if he let go, Mark would vanish. He's trying to voice something in between his hiccups, and Mark catches the words 'parents' and 'fencing' and 'don't care', and realizes that all this while, all Jackson had really wanted was for his parents to love him as their child again. That Jackson had become a delinquent because he'd wanted his parents to see him as Jackson Wang, their son, instead of Jackson Wang, the fencer, or Jackson Wang, the one who'd disappointed them. 

 

"Jackson," Mark says softly, running his hands through the teenager's hair, combing it out gently. "Your parents do love you, you know."

 

The boy tries to jerk away at this, but Mark keeps him in his embrace, knowing that if he let Jackson start talking they'd end up arguing, and he didn't want that. "Your parents do love you. They've just been showing it in different ways. Different from what you want and need, evidently, but that doesn't mean they don't care. They asked you to take extra lessons with me because they're worried about your grades, and it'll affect your future. They make you do so much in fencing because they know that you're good, and that you can make them proud."

 

"Talk to them, Jackson," Mark finishes, this time letting Jackson peel himself away from him. He smiles warmly at his student, brushing his bangs away from his eyes. "They'll understand. You need to communicate with them. As long as you do, they'll know what they've been doing wrong. They're your parents; There's no way they don't love you."

 

There's a soft feeling in his chest as he says this, the warmth spreading through him when he sees Jackson's watery smile. He grins back at his student, patting him on the back to signify that it would be all right, and if it didn't, then Mark was there to provide support.

 

Jackson leans forward and kisses him.

 

Mark's eyes widen, leaning back against the couch when Jackson presses closer. The kiss is chaste, their lips brushing together the way snow would greet the ground, falling softly, like Jackson is snow and Mark is the ground. As more fell, Jackson pressed closer, the snow starting to pile up, more and more, until it's no longer little snowflakes but a snowstorm, whirling Mark up into it and leaving him breathless. 

 

"No, Jackson-" He exhales shakily, his hands coming up to his student's waist, pushing him away. Mark wants this, wants this so much, but he restrains himself. As much as his arms want to snake around his waist and pull him close, kiss Jackson until his lips are swollen and his cheeks are pink, Mark knows he cannot. Jackson is a minor, he's a mere 16 years old and Mark is 26. There's a decade between them and Mark will lose his job if this goes out. "We can't- Jackson-"

 

"You want me," Jackson breathes against his lips. It's a statement, not a question, and the fact that Jackson can read him so well scares Mark more than anything else. He's always been shut off from the world, an introvert, but Jackson, Jackson who is a minor, Jackson who is 10 years younger than him, Jackson who Mark is irrevocably in love with, can read him like an open book. "Why do you fight it, Mark?"

 

  
_Mark_.

 

It jerks Mark out of his reverie, where he had started to kiss back, and he pushes Jackson away so far that the other falls off the couch and onto the floor. His eyes are wild, darting from Jackson's mussed hair to his red lips, then to the door. He points at the exit with a soft 'out'. Jackson stays on the ground, frozen, afraid that he had gone too far. "Out."

 

"Mr. Tuan-"

 

"Out!"

 

Jackson rises to his feet, slowly, burning in embarrassment and shame. His eyes, however, are as determined as they had ever been, and just before he closes the door behind him, he turns to look at Mark. "I won't give up. I won't."

 

Mark curls up on his couch, numb.

 

* * *

It's more than Mark can deal with. Jackson continues to try to advance, leaving him small notes in between his homework that say how he won't give up and that he'd try until Mark reciprocates his attempts. He doesn't write the word 'feelings', because he already knows that Mark feels for him what he feels for Mark, and it's both extremely flattering and extremely terrifying at the same time. He comes into class with small gifts, some that he bought and some that he made himself. The homemade ones are those that affect Mark the most - that Jackson would actually spend time making things for him was something that was not easily ignored. 

 

He tries to stop Jackson, but the other is undeterred. "Jackson," Mark says exasperatedly one day when Jackson stays behind to talk to him, the door swinging shut behind the last student to leave. "You can't keep doing this. We're 10 years apart, not to mention I'm your teacher. There'll never be anything between us, so you should just stop this."

 

"Why do you keep telling me this?" Jackson asks, frowning. "Just because there's an age gap between us doesn't mean that we can't be together. I  _love_  you-"

 

"Stop."

 

"Mark-"

 

"Stop!" 

 

Mark is standing now, his face contorted into fury, both at Jackson and at himself. He's had enough, enough of Jackson continuing his advances, even though Mark has asked him to stop. He's had enough of trying to control himself, knowing that he can't stop himself from loving Jackson, either.

 

Jackson and his small smile, Jackson and his huge grin, Jackson's voice calling him  _Mr. Tuan_  and  _Mark_ , Jackson on his couch, crying into his chest, Jackson beside him as they cooked, swapping stories, Jackson washing the dishes with him, Jackson asking him questions in his muted voice, Jackson thanking him, Jackson's handwriting as he writes out Mark's name, Jackson making him small gifts, Jackson going out of his way to see him more, Jackson telling him that he loved him, Jackson, all of Jackson.

 

He takes Jackson by the back of his neck and presses their lips together, demanding. There's so much he would like to do with Jackson that it scares him because he can't control himself and his urges. He wants to see Jackson above him, wants to see how he'd be like dominating him, wants to see Jackson below him, panting and writhing against him, wants to see Jackson when he wakes up in the mornings and Jackson when he falls asleep at night. He wants to see Jackson when he smiles and Jackson when he cries, and he wants to share that happiness and sorrow.

 

And it scares him. So much. 

 

Jackson is pressing back against him, arms wrapping around Mark's slim waist, pulling him closer. The kiss is heated, mouths sliding over each other, but Jackson's hand on him is so gentle, so soothing, as though Mark were made of glass and Jackson didn't want to hurt him, as though he were a small flower and Jackson didn't want to tear him apart. Ironically, it  _did_  tear at Mark, tearing at his heart that Jackson was handling him like this, as though he was the most precious thing in the world.

 

He melts into the kiss, and he notices that there's no taste of cigarettes in Jackson's mouth. Jaebum and Jinyoung had told him that Jackson smoked, so he'd expected that there would be the taste of it, but there was none. 

 

"Mark," Jackson murmurs against his lips, his eyes soft and happy. "Mark, I love you."

 

"Jackson."

 

* * *

Mark learns that Jackson has been trying to stop smoking. "For you," He said, when Mark asked him why he was trying to stop. He knows how difficult it is to cure an addiction, but when Jackson comes over for their lessons now, he's armed with packets of nicotine gum, and when they're done - it usually takes them about an hour or so, because Jackson breezes through his math like he's never done before - they curl up into each other on Mark's couch. "I don't know about anyone else, but you don't seem the type to want to kiss someone with cigarette breath.

 

This makes a laugh bubble from Mark's throat. He doesn't say that he wouldn't exactly mind, if it were Jackson that he was kissing. He wants Jackson to quit, to stop smoking those cancer sticks that Mark hates. He knows he's being stupid, because even if Jackson didn't stop, he wouldn't stop loving Jackson, but he can't help but feel touched that Jackson is thinking of him, even when it comes to something like this.

 

There are the times that the withdrawal hits Jackson so bad that he can't help but tremble, blood pressure falling. It's at times like these, when Jackson is on the verge of fainting that Mark forgoes the lessons and gives Jackson a glass of orange juice, bringing him to his bedroom and wrapping him in blankets. Jackson likes to stare at Mark during these times, as though trying to commit every detail of Mark's features to his memory. Mark doesn't know whether he should be flattered that Jackson loves him this much.

 

Slowly, Jackson starts to decrease his nicotine intake. He becomes more irritable, and has difficulty concentrating in class. Mark speaks to Jackson's father and learns that Jackson has started to open up to his family more, and that Mr. Wang has let Jackson take a break in his fencing until he manages to kick the nicotine addiction completely. Jackson is more willing to return home now, and smiles at his father when he drops him off and when he picks him up from Mark's apartment.

 

When Jackson manages to quit smoking, he is 17 years old, 1 year from when he first met Mark. Mark laughs and Jackson picks him up by the waist, spinning them around they're both laughing and breathless.

 

"Come with me," Mark says, taking Jackson's hand and pulling him into his room. He's delirious with happiness and glee, and Jackson is no different. He pushes Jackson down onto his bed and kisses him, slow and deep. Their lips press together softly, tongues sneaking out to play with the other. They're so overwhelmed by everything that it progresses to sharing of breaths and laughter than it is kissing, but it's still as loving all the same. "I'm so proud of you," Mark praises, eyes shining, and Jackson's breath hitches in his throat with how absolutely  _beautiful_  Mark looks. "So proud."

 

"Mark," Jackson breathes in return, pulling the other down onto him. Mark is here, and he's warm and beautiful, like the sun. He's scorching, too bright for Jackson to look at directly, but he can't help but want to try, blinding himself with Mark's beauty and kindness because Jackson would not be here if it weren't for Mark. Mark and his tenacity, Mark and his attempts to change him into the person he had been before. Somehow, against all odds, Mark had succeeded, Mark was  _here_. Mark could have literally anyone he wanted, but he'd chosen  _Jackson_.

 

He pulls at Mark's shirt, tugging it up and off. In any other situation, at any other time, Mark would have stopped the other. But now,  _but now_ , when Mark is not in the right state of mind, when Mark is so ridiculously in love that he can't help himself, he lets Jackson. 

 

Jackson marvels at Mark's abdomen, tracing the soft contours of it with his fingers, tickling Mark and making him blush at the same time. Mark peels Jackson's shirt off in return, leaning down to kiss his lips, then trailing down to his collarbones, his chest, swirling his tongue teasingly around the other's nipples. Jackson arches, little breathy moans escaping his mouth, and he threads one hand into Mark's hair. 

 

"Want you," Jackson says, voice breathless with want. "Mark!" 

 

Jackson is looking at him with so much lust and love that Mark wants to bottle that gaze up and keep it forever, wants to tie Jackson down to his bed so that no one else will be able to see that look on Jackson's face. "Mine," Mark whispers, leaning down to kiss Jackson again, so caught up in the other's body and presence that he can't think. "All mine."

 

"Yours," Is the choked reply. "Mark, I-"

 

Mark leans up to grab the small bottle of lubricant, uncapping it and telling Jackson to remove his pants. The younger does, lifting his hips to kick off his pants and briefs, pulling Mark's off, as well. Mark exhales shakily, kicking his clothes off and squeezing lubricant onto his palm.

 

The bottle makes a squelching noise as it deposits its contents into Mark's palm, and for a second they both pause, and neither makes a sound. Then they're laughing so hard, Jackson doubled over and Mark having a hard time keeping himself up. It's ridiculous, and they shouldn't find the situation as funny as they do, especially with the both of them as hard as they were, but they can't help but keep laughing, Jackson's hyena laughter and Mark's only giggling echoing through the room. 

 

They're stupid, and stupidly in love and in lust, and when their laughter finally dies down, Mark throws the empty bottle over his shoulder and grabs Jackson's cock, still giggling slightly even while he did so. Jackson squeals, the cold shocking him, but then he's moaning when Mark begins to work his hand up and down, stroking rhythmically. Mark leans down to whisper dirty, nonsensical words into his ear -  _gonna fuck you so hard, jackson, yes just like that, arch your back for me, you're so naughty, jackson, spreading your legs like this for me. yeah, you like that? come on jackson, yes, yes, just a little more, baby, come for me_ \- and Jackson's eyes snap wide open, biting his lips as he arches off the bed, gasping Mark's name and hands scrambling for purchase. 

 

When he comes back to himself, Jackson finds Mark smiling softly at him, eyes warm and gentle and  _loving_  and it makes Jackson so ridiculously happy he can't help himself. He glances at Mark's hand around his own erection, tugging, and he pulls Mark down onto the bed, settling him back down and straddling the other. He rubs his ass against Mark's cock, batting his hands away. Mark's groaning, making these erotic little whimpers as Jackson grinds down harder, and it's not long before Mark's coming with a shout of Jackson's name, hands grabbing onto his hips as he jerks up and spills himself.

 

"Jackson," Mark laughs, fondly, and there are tears in his eyes when he reaches his clean hand up to caress Jackson's cheek. "You're so precious to me."

 

Jackson smiles.

 

* * *

As it turns out, it doesn't last.

 

Mark goes into work on Monday to find the entire office silent. They're all looking at him with a degree of disrespect and resentment, and only Jaebum and Jinyoung speak to him. They pull him aside immediately, dragging him to the empty teacher's lounge. 

 

"Are you with Jackson?" Jinyoung fires immediately. Mark doesn't answer, but the way he stiffens and his silence is answer enough for the other two. Jaebum shakes his head like a disappointed parent and Jinyoung slumps down as though the world's coming to an end and there's nothing they can do to stop it.

 

"How do you know?" Mark manages to get out after a while. His voice is soft, his throat parched. No one was supposed to find out; No one was supposed to know. How did Jaebum and Jinyoung know, how did  _the school_  know when he and Jackson had always been careful, had always made sure there was no one around whenever they touched each other romantically?

 

Jinyoung shakes his head, looking down sadly. "Jackson's father came into the school this morning."

 

Mark flinches at the words, and he backs into the wall, sliding down with the most forlorn expression on his face. He looks like his world has come crashing down, the only anchor from him to reality gone. He looks up, whispering a quick 'Jackson' and stands up, but Jaebum grabs him and prevents him. "No, Mark."

 

"I have to-"

 

"Jackson doesn't know."

 

This has Mark staring at Jaebum incredulously. How could Jackson not know that the school knew they were together when it was his own father that had told the school? He held no doubt in his heart that Jackson would not have been the one to tell his father, so it was obvious that they had been careless, and that had led to Mr. Wang finding out. 

 

"If you go anywhere near Jackson, Mr. Wang's going to charge you with rape," Jaebum informs, his eyebrows drawn together. "He wants you to leave. The principal has agreed; There's an opening in Brazil for an exchange teacher. It's a 5 year term, and the principal has agreed that you leave, and Mr. Wang won't charge you for anything, since you gave them back their Jackson."

 

Mark crumbles, and he sobs.

 

It is hours later, when Jaebum and Jinyoung have ended their classes that he pleads for their help. They refuse, at first, but Mark begs them. He knows that Jaebum and Jinyoung are dating - it's no secret to anyone that can pick up a few hints - but he needs this, needs to do this because he can't lead Jackson on anymore if he's moving to another continent in 2 days.

 

_"I need you to help me cheat on Jackson. With you."_

* * *

Mark knows that Jackson is coming. They'd planned to spend the evening together, after Jackson finishes his fencing practice. Mark had prepared snacks that he knew Jackson would like, had been prepared to watch Jackson do his homework while he graded papers. He had been expecting a perfect evening where Mark would be able to stare at Jackson for as long as he wished.

 

This is not the evening Mark had planned for.

 

Instead of Jackson, he has Jaebum in his bedroom, quiet. Jaebum is here because Mark is with his boyfriend, pretending to cheat on Jackson, and Mark's heart breaks a little more with each passing second. Jinyoung is on his lap, and the door is haphazardly thrown open. It looks, for all in the world, like Jinyoung had burst into Mark's apartment and proceeded to make out with him, but to Mark, it's fake and makes him want to throw up.

 

When they hear the sound of the elevator, and the footsteps that Mark has committed to memory, he pulls Jinyoung close and kisses him. He knows Jaebum isn't watching - the possessive streak that Jaebum held in him was phenomenal - so he imagines Jinyoung is Jackson and kisses him with all the fervor of a lover. 

 

He hears the footsteps stutter to a stop and moans, wrapping his arms tightly around Jinyoung's waist and pulling him ever closer. "Jinyoung," He murmurs, gasping in between kisses. "Jinyoung, Jackson'll be here anytime soon-"

 

"Hush," Jinyoung returns, and if it were any other time, Mark would commend the literature teacher on his acting skills, but he's too busy trying to stop himself from bursting into tears and holding Jackson close for the rest of eternity. "Who's more important here?"

 

Mark moans, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. To Jackson, it might have seemed as though Mark was tilting his head back into pleasure, but it was merely Mark's way of preventing his tears from falling. "Y-You."

 

The footsteps thud back to the elevator, following a muffled choke. When they heard the elevator's  _ping_  again, they detached themselves from one another, and the look Jinyoung gives him is pitiful.

 

Mark breaks down, and cries.

 

* * *

Mark leaves the country, bringing along his items, the one shirt that Jackson had left at his place, and, unknowingly, Jackson's heart.

 

* * *

A year and a half passes. Arcadia is no different, except Jackson is graduating. Jaebum and Jinyoung watch as the other walks mechanically up the stage to receive his diploma, his eyes empty and unfeeling. Jackson has never been the same since Mark left, since he saw Jinyoung and Mark in the latter's apartment. 

 

He doesn't even blame Jinyoung. Honestly, the literature teacher would feel better if Jackson would just lash out at him, yell at him for breaking him and Mark apart, and for Mark's abrupt departure that the school only explained as a 'transfer'. Instead, Jackson takes his class, and Jinyoung marks his essays that are filled with sorrow and hurt and ' _Will I ever be good enough for someone, or will I forever be insufficient?_ '. Jackson is the best student he's had in ages, but Jinyoung would throw that all away if he could have Mark and Jackson back.

 

* * *

"Jackson," Jinyoung calls. 

 

The graduating student turns to him and stares at him with the deadest eyes he's ever seen, and Jinyoung's heart contracts a little. He feels Jaebum walk up behind him, and gains a little more courage, a little more confidence.

 

He thinks of Mark's eyes when he'd heard that the school had found out about their relationship, thinks of Jackson's face when he returned to school one day, a changed man, thinks of Mark's grin when he's happy and Jackson's when he's around the former. He thinks of all these things and tells himself that Jackson deserves to know.

 

* * *

Mark stays in Brazil, and teaches. He speaks the language, yes, because he's lived here when he was younger, and though he'd forgotten most of it when he returned to America, it was easy to pick it back up again, and soon he's speaking it like he'd never forgotten it. He's courteous with the teachers and friendly with the students, but he keeps his distance.

 

He remembers Jackson.

 

Sometimes he takes out Jackson's shirt from the cupboard he has in his rented apartment and holds it close to him. Sometimes he sobs himself to sleep, clutching his cold pillow and desperately wishing for Jackson. Sometimes he wakes up and sees Jackson smiling down at him, only to reach out and realize that it was his imagination.

 

Mark continues to love Jackson, even from so far away. He wishes he could return to California to take Jackson back into his arms, wishes that he could love Jackson again, wishes that he never had to break Jackson's heart.

 

He'd never even been able to say goodbye to Jackson, and that is Mark's greatest regret. 

 

* * *

Jinyoung receives an international voice mail one day when he wakes up, tangled in Jaebum's arms. The other is a heavy sleeper, so he removes himself from the mess of limbs that they'd gotten themselves into some time during the night, and listens to it.

 

" _Jinyoung_ ," It starts, and Jinyoung jolts up at the familiarity of the voice. Mark had changed his number when he wet to Brazil, and never told anyone of his new number. Jinyoung had been desperately trying to contact him, find ways to call him, but he'd never been able to. 

 

" _Jinyoung, this is Mark. Jinyoung, are you okay? I'm not okay, Jinyoung. I miss Jackson. I miss him a lot. Is it bad to fall in love, Jinyoung? It hurts. Why did I fall for him, Jinyoung, why? I never meant to hurt him. I never wanted to hurt him, but I did. Jinyoung, does he still hate me? Does he still love me? I love him so much, Jinyoung. I can't stop thinking about him. Jinyoung? Jin-_ "

 

He feels arms wrap around his waist, pulling him into a chest, and it's only then that he realizes that he's crying. Jaebum's holding him close, rubbing soothingly down his back, and Jinyoung sheds his tears into Jaebum's chest, soaking the older man's shirt with them, but it doesn't register.

 

Jaebum, on his part, doesn't mind. Mark was one of their good friends, in the year that he had been teaching at Arcadia, and they liked him, more than they liked any other colleague. He had been forced out of his country by the father of his student, by the father of the one that he loved. Forbid to speak to him, Mark had left the country for half a decade with a short notice to his parents and having to break the heart of his lover. It made sense that Mark was still holding on to memories of himself with Jackson.

 

Jaebum himself couldn't stand the idea of having to break Jinyoung's heart as thoroughly as Mark had had to break Jackson's. Sure, it was for the latter's own good, that he do that, but he knows it doesn't soften the blow. That it hadn't softened the blow when he and Jinyoung had told Jackson that Mark had always loved him, and that Mark had never cheated on Jinyoung because he loved Jackson and  _only_  Jackson.

 

"It'll be okay, Jinyoung," Jaebum comforts, shushing his sobbing lover and bringing him back to bed. "We told Jackson, remember? They'll work it out. Somehow, they'll make it. When Mark returns, they'll be able to go back to what they were before Jackson's father broke them up."

 

Jinyoung doesn't know if what Jaebum is saying is true - who would know these things, after all? - but he takes his lover's words as true, and falls back into a fitful sleep.

 

* * *

It's been 5 years.

 

5 years since Mark has set foot in America. He didn't go back to visit at all, the past 5 years. He doesn't know what's changed about his neighbourhood, doesn't know what's been going on at home, doesn't know anything. He's been emotionless and empty for the past half a decade, and Mark would be lying if he said he didn't miss California. Brazil was beautiful, yes, but there was something about California, about  _home_  that made Mark eager to return.

 

Jackson might have been one of those reasons.

 

He doesn't allow himself to think of Jackson. The boy was out of his mind, forcefully, but he was never out of his heart. It still pained Mark whenever he saw couples together, happily chatting and holding each other's hands that he thinks that he could have had that with Jackson. The heartache isn't worth it; Jackson might have moved on by now, for all he knew. Mark had 'cheated on' Jackson, so Jackson was free to be with anyone he wanted.

 

Not like Mark. Not like Mark who had never allowed himself to forget Jackson. When he was conscious, he didn't allow himself any thoughts of Jackson for the fear of being distracted and wallowing in his misery. He missed Jackson, more than he'd ever thought was humanly possible to miss someone, but here he was, missing Jackson so much it hurt physically sometimes, that it made him want to throw up. 

 

Was it possible to be literally lovesick?

 

He'd only informed Jinyoung of his return - and his family, of course, but they were by default - so he expects, perhaps, Jinyoung and maybe Jaebum to be waiting for him at the arrival terminal of the airport. It's been a long 5 years, and he's eager to see how his friends have changed, even though he'd never really given them a chance to keep in contact until that call he'd accidentally dialed approximately 3 years ago. 

 

He sulks a little when he realizes that neither Jinyoung nor Jaebum are anywhere to be found, when there is a hand placed on his left shoulder. He spins around, ready to pout at Jinyoung for leaving him hanging when he realizes that, number one, that isn't Park Jinyoung, number two, he's really attractive, and number three, he's-

 

"Jackson?"

 

Jackson's staring at him with his piercing gaze, the same as the one from so long ago, and Mark has to actively remember how to breathe lest he suffocate on the spot. This is not Jackson Wang, 17 year old teenager that Mark had left heartbroken with no way of telling him how to contact him, never having been him nor said goodbye. This is Jackson Wang, 22 years old, more mature, having filled out and lost all his baby fat, looking more attractive and more masculine than Mark had ever seen him.

 

"Hello, Mark," He's greeted by the Jackson, and Mark wants to cry, wants to laugh, wants to melt into Jackson's arms even though Mark is the 32 year old here. He should not be shaking, his bottom lip should not be trembling, but it hurts too much and he wants, he  _wants_  Jackson back. 

 

Mark remembers to breathe, and he smiles shakily, hesitantly, as though afraid that if he smiled too wide or too bright Jackson would take it to mean that he wasn't sincere and leave, leave Mark the way he had spun on his heels and to the elevator when Mark had had to break him so many years ago. "Hey."

 

Jackson returns the smile, and it's sad, yes, but it's filled with so many promises that Mark can't help but fling himself at Jackson and bury his face into the other's shoulder, uncontrollable sobs wracking through his slim frame. Mark thinks he's cried enough for the rest of his life, but that thought is abruptly pushed out of his mind when Jackson holds him close, so close Mark thinks he might be able to sink into the warmth ocean that is Jackson and never leave.

 

"Welcome home, Mark."

 

* * *

"Don't you  _dare_  ever do that to me again," Jackson says, lying on his bed next to Mark in his apartment. He'd rented it the moment he'd turned 18, with what little money he had from saving up from his summer jobs. He couldn't live with his parents anymore, not when he'd found out from Mr. Park - or Jinyoung, as the other had made him call him the moment he graduated - that his father was the one who had driven Mark away. "I don't care what my parents say, or what anyone else says, you're  _mine_  and I'm  _yours_."

 

"Okay," Mark replies from where he's lying with his face in Jackson's neck, holding him tight. "Okay."

 

"I don't trust you," Is what he hears next, and Mark shoots up so fast he almost smashes his head against Jackson's chin, but manages not to. Jackson gives him a look and sighs. "I don't. I love you, Mark, I really do. But what you did with Jinyoung was painful, and I honestly don't trust you. Not anymore."

 

It makes sense to Mark, but he can't deny that it hurts. He inhales deeply, nodding his understanding. "I understand," Is all he says in response to that. After a moment, he continues. "I'll earn it back, though. Your trust."

 

Jackson smiles, and leans in to kiss Mark.

 

* * *

9 months later, Mark moves into Jackson's apartment. Officially, at least. Jinyoung says it's about time and sends them a box of condoms while Jaebum does nothing to stop his lover and continues grinning like the asshole he is. They swap Jackson's single bed out for a king sized one, and while neither of them are really fitful sleepers (Even though they both say that each other snores too loudly for them to be able to sleep normally) Jackson somehow ends up on the floor sometime during the night.

 

Mark wakes up to see Jackson on the ground, groaning in pain, and laughs. "Are you okay?" He asks, stretching his hand out to Jackson, still laughing about his lover's plight.

 

There is a flash of recognition in both their eyes, and Jackson grins despite the pain. "No one asked for your help," He shoots back, but he takes Mark's hand all the same, letting his lover pull him up. "I love you."

 

"Yeah," Mark replies, his grin so wide and bright that it leaves Jackson breathless. "I love you, too."

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(A month later, they attend Arcadia's alumni dinner. They meet up with Jaebum and Jinyoung, who are wrapped around each other but seem to be staring at one person in particular. Said blushing victim of their twin gazes, according to Jackson, is Choi Youngjae, who is the same age as Jackson, 12 and 11 years younger than Jaebum and Jinyoung respectively. Jackson and Mark exchange glances, then grin simultaneously, Mark pushing Jaebum and Jinyoung forward while Jackson pulls Youngjae towards the couple.)


End file.
